Dirty Little Freaks
by dewdropsunlight
Summary: Homeless for three years, Caitlyn, has defended herself on the street. After seeing a rather tragic/traumatic event unfold on a nearby street corner, she becomes a target to a dangerous gang. Who else to turn to, but Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson? Rated M due to violence and possible language
1. Chapter 1

Rain rushed down, hitting the rooftops and car windows, making a racket as it did so. Behind all the noise was the rhythm of footsteps hitting the pavement. Focusing in, there was a particular set of feet running, fast. The person, whose feet these belonged to, dogged in and out of the inner city passageways. It was a girl, roughly 18. Her wavy hair was short brown and stuck to her cheeks as she ran due to the rain. Her worn trainers were soaked through and got heavier every time she stepped in a puddle. The clothes she was wearing were also soaked through and made it harder to run. But the woman didn't stop. No. Stopping meant death and she was not ready to die. Making a right, she tripped, scraping up her knee and possibly spraining her wrist. They were getting closer and she knew it. Looking around, she spotted a garbage can at the end of the alley. Despite her wrists' protest, she pushed herself up and ran. Upon arriving, she squeezed herself underneath the green bin and did her best not to be seen. She waited; minutes, hours, she didn't know. All she knew was that when she saw the two pairs of feet getting closer, she froze; her breath barely showing in the semi-cold air.

"Where the fuck is she?" One voice snapped. Obviously it was a man.

"I don't know!" Another man, the partner and the one standing closest to the bin she was under, yelled. Then he kicked the bin.

"He's gonna be pissed we let her get away." She dared not close her eyes until the men eventually walked away, grumbling and yelling. When she did so, images passed by her eyelids. The first one to spoke was a man possibly in his 30s with dark hair and brown eyes. He had an okay build and was a rather good runner. The other man was a bit taller and was also in his 30s with dark hair and brown eyes. She decided they were twins or at least related. A gunshot nearby made her jump and tore her from her thoughts. She very well couldn't hide her any longer but she couldn't get out in case they were still nearby. As time passed, she started to shiver a little. The girl knew it was time to move. She slowly moved out into the open, the pain in her wrist occasionally making her pause. Finally out from underneath the garbage bin, she ran.

**A Week Later**

She stepped on the subway, an attempt to get away from the cold night air. Her backpack was hanging off of her right shoulder. Nothing too valuable was in there, just some clothes and a blanket; all her money she carries on her. The scene was rather normal for the people on the night train so there was no need for alert. However, as she sat down, something was off. Trying to ignore whatever was bothering the other passengers, she closed her eyes. A presence nearby made her open them. Two seats over there was three man, the third didn't bother her as much as the two closest.

Suddenly they made a move towards her and she recognized them from before. She put down her backpack and stood in a defensive position. The first man went to punch her but she kicked him first. The second man though, got a grip on her and pushed her against the compartment door. As the first man got up and charged at her, she stuck her legs out and kicked him in the stomach. As he went down again, the grip on her tightened and she began to see black dots. She felt her body start to go limp. While her eyes were closing, she saw a figure attacking the two men. Then the figure was hovering over her. She could faintly feel his fingers on her wrist, getting her pulse, and asking her if she could hear him.

"Who are you?" She breathily asked, trying to remain conscious.

"You're safe." Was all she heard before she blacked out.

Upon waking up, she kept her eyes closed. She was clearly not outside or on the train anymore. No, it was warm and whatever she was laying on was something comfortable. Thinking back on what happened, she could only recall being attack. Her body tensed up.

"Relax, you're safe." A light-hearted, soft voice said. She flashed her eyes open. A woman with chocolate brown hair and sentimental brown eyes was next to her. Her first thought was that she was in the hospital, due to the woman wearing a white coat. But looking around, she was in someone's flat and on the couch.

"Who are you?" Her throat was dry and speaking made her cough a little. The woman handed her a bottle of water,

"I'm Molly Hooper." The woman, Molly, stood up. "I'll be right back. I have a call to make." Molly got up and walked out of them room. Straining her ears, she faintly heard the woman say: "yes... she's awake... yes. Okay. See you soon." Alarm ran through her body and she stood up. She was almost at the door when Molly walked back into the room. "Where're you going?" Molly's voice sounded confused and somewhat like a demand.

"Get Away! You're one of them." She yelled.

"One of who?"

"You're a terrible liar." The 18-year-old spat and backed up till her hand touched the doorknob.

"Please calm done." The woman begged. Not wanting to stay any longer, in fear that by the time she leaves the people she called would be here, she turned around and ran out the door. In her surprise and horror, she ran into a tall man. She backed away as she saw a shorter man next to him. Just as she was about to bolt, the tall man grabbed her shoulders and dragged her back into Molly's flat.

"Molly, you've scared the poor girl. I thought I told you that it would be beneficial for us if she wasn't freaked out." The man shook his head and pushed the girl to the couch, forcing her to sit. He sat directly across, his partner sat next to her, and Molly left to go to a different room. There was a large silence as the man looked at her. Although she felt the urge to fidget, she remained completely still. By the time Molly came back with a tray of tea, no words were said. She was offered tea but she made no move to take it. In her mind it was the reasonable thing to do. Earlier the water had been bottled and there were no signs of tampering, however this time she had no way to tell. Molly sighed and put the tea near her in case she changed her mind, which she won't.

"So," the man next to her coughed a little, "what's your name?"

"I'm sure you already know." She kept her voice level, not expressing her emotions.

"We aren't who you think we are."

"Then who are you?"

"I'm Doctor John Watson and that man across from you is Sherlock Holmes." She shook her head, indicating she had no idea what they were talking about.

"Listen," the man whose name was supposedly Sherlock impatiently butted in, "you were being followed. Why?"

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because we can help." This time it was Molly who spoke.

"You're homeless, been homeless for a few years." Her attention turned back to Sherlock. "Possibly walked out voluntarily but with your trust issues, parents kicked you out. I must congratulate you though on surviving so well and not turning to drugs."

"How astute of you Mr. Holmes but I'm sure everyone can tell I'm homeless and don't take drugs." She watched gladly as his face turned to shock as she talked back.

"Miss, we would like to help." John told her. She was hesitant but she took a chance.

"I'll talk to you but not to Molly and certainly not the idiot sitting across from me." John smiled. She turned to see Molly shrugging and Sherlock look completely taken aback. It was quite amusing to see Molly having to drag him out. Satisfied that the two were gone, she turned back to John who was holding out a cup of tea. "I have questions." She stated before carefully taking the cup from him.

"Of course." He nodded.

"Where am I?"

"You are in Molly's flat, a couple blocks from St. Bart's hospital."

"How'd I get here? What happened? And who wrapped my wrist and changed my clothes?" She asked.

"You were attacked on a train two nights ago. Sherlock was there and stopped the guys from dragging you off. As for your wrist, I did that. Like I said before, I'm a doctor. Just relax and don't use it as much, you should've gotten some medical help. That's a nasty sprain." He calmly replied.

"And my clothes?" He blushed.

"Molly did that." She nodded, instantly feeling better that a woman had changed her clothes. "Okay, my turn. What's your name?"

"Caitlyn."

"How old are you?"

"Are these the classic doctor questions to make sure I don't have any brain damage?" He didn't say anything. "I'm eighteen; been homeless since I was fifteen. It's October 25th judging by the fact you said I was attacked two nights ago."

"Any headaches?" Caitlyn shook her head. "Good, good. Okay, now on to why you were targeted. Can you think of why you would be targeted?" She ignored the whining of Sherlock in the other room and looked at John.

"I saw something two weeks ago. I thought I got rid of them."

"What did you witness?" He pressed further.

"I saw," her voice got drastically quieter. "a group of men surround some homeless girls. A few got away but the ones that stayed." She shuddered. "I couldn't do anything. If I moved I would give myself away."

"You said they surrounded the girls?"

"Yeah, they made the girls give them," Caitlyn struggled to find the right word, "favors. And then after that," her eyes started to water, "they killed them. After they left, I trailed them back to where they came from. I heard talk about some sort of injection plan. That's when I bolted." John took the tea out of her shaking hands, set it down, and then hugged her. They sat like that for a while, her trying not to cry and him just holding her. Eventually she pulled away. "I'm sor-sorry."

"Don't mention it." He smiled gently at her. "We should probably get Sherlock and Molly, if you're comfortable." To tell the truth, Sherlock made her extremely nervous but she bit back the no and nodded. Seconds later Molly and Sherlock were sitting down.


	2. Chapter 2

"Thanks for the clothes Molly and thank you for helping me Sherlock." She nodded her head at the two of them, knowing that it was a polite thing to do.

"Not at all!" Molly smiled enthusiastically. Sherlock only grunted in reply but she ignored him. It got quiet, no one said anything. This was when she started fidgeting, she hated the quiet…too much over thinking could be done.

"So," she coughed a little, "you had questions?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes but nodded.

"Why were they after you? What makes you important?" Looking up, she glared at the man, taking offense to what he said. Is he implying that she's not important at all? Resisting the urge to punch the man who saved her (supposedly), Caitlyn took a deep breath and looked at John. He nodded, encouraging her to speak.

"Because I saw them do some things and later over heard them whispering about an injection plan." She watched as the man leaned forward, pressing his hands together and bringing them to his lips. Silence fell again. Having enough of no one talking, she abruptly stood up. Bad mistake. Her left hand instantly went to her forehead to help stop the nausea and headache. Somewhere in the distance she heard John telling her to sit down and having a pair of hands touch her. That's when she flipped.

"Shhh, calm down. You're having a panic attack. It's alright." The words brought little comfort as she felt her heart speed up. It was going so fast, Caitlyn thought it would jump right out of her chest. A pair of hands pushed her down but she couldn't see who. In fact, she couldn't see anything but shapes at the moment.

"Caitlyn! Caitlyn!" Fingers snapped in front of her face and everything snapped back to reality. Blinking, she looked up. How had she moved when she was just on the couch? "Caitlyn?" John asked this time, unsure of whether or not the girl had regained control over her actions. Slightly moving her head to signal she heard him, she felt as if the tension was sucked out of the room and it was easier to breathe now. Caitlyn watched as Sherlock bent down and lifted her up. Realizing she was exhausted, she curled into the man, noticing him tense and then loosen up a little.

A small shaking brought her out of the dream world. Above her was the man she came to know as John holding out a glass of water and some medicine. "Sorry, I really hate to wake you. But you should take some medicine. Then you can go right back to sleep." Sleepily, she reached out and took it from him. With no trouble at all, the medicine was taken. "Okay." John gently smiled. "You can rest now." She nodded and snuggled into the bed. It wasn't until she was almost asleep again that she realized that the bed was actually Sherlock holding her.

Waking up, Caitlyn felt much better, probably the best she's felt in years. She yawned and rolled out of bed. Sometime during the night Sherlock must have moved her into a guest bedroom or something similar. Grabbing a blanket off of the bed, she wrapped it around her and pulled it close before walking out into the rest of the flat. The aroma of pancakes awakened her senses. "It looks like sleeping beauty has awoken." A light, carefree voice called out. Not being able to do anything else but smile at the older women, Caitlyn sat down at the counter.

"Can I have a pancake?" She yawned again.

"Of course!" Soon after this was said, a plate of two pancakes was slid in front of her along with some maple syrup. Out of her peripheral vision, she watched Molly make her own pancakes and then sit directly across from her. "So you're name is Caitlyn?"

"Yeah, just Caitlyn."

"No middle or last name?" Just the thought of her _family_ made her want to give up eating, but she knew it would be rude and she was hungry.

"Caitlyn Marie Coulter." She spat out the last name and angrily stuffed a slice of pancake in her mouth.

"How old are you?" Molly gave no notice to the fact that venom had moved into the girls' voice.

"Eighteen. I'll be nineteen in two months."

"Family?" That had done it. Pushing her plate forward, she sent up a small apologetic look.

"No. I'd rather die than call them family." By now it had to be obvious that a button that shouldn't be pressed, was being pressed.

"But they're your family! You can't possibly hate them, that's such a strong feeling." Molly cried out is dismay. Caitlyn resisted the urge to ask the woman if she was oblivious to everything.

"Caring isn't an advantage Ms. Molly. It never will be and I don't intend to start caring anytime soon."

It seemed odd to Sherlock, hearing those words come from someone who was not his brother. Yet like always, he hid the slight curiosity had for the girl's life story. There had been a murder, and she seemed to be the key point in finding the killers. Before the girl had awakened, he had been made aware of some homeless girls being murdered by Lestrade, who, like always, was getting nowhere. He recalled Lestrade saying something about how no one in the homeless network trusted him and skidded around his questions.

* * *

The case was the only interesting one in a while and Sherlock had jumped for the chance. In fact, he was on his way to meet [Code Name] Steve when he noticed three men gaining up on a girl, a homeless girl. His instincts kicked in and he started punching the men. To say it was easy would be an understatement. The guys were clearly not prepared for someone to stand up for whoever she was and any training they had was minimal. When he was done with the two that came after him, he looked over to see the last man strangling the girl. Sherlock grabbed the guy and flipped him onto the ground. Quickly making sure the guy was unconscious; he hurried over to the girl. His hand flicked to her wrist immediately when he stood over her.

"Who are you?" He could hear her quickly losing consciousness.

"You're safe." When he saw her eyes close, he immediately put his arm behind her neck to make sure she didn't hit her head. With his other hand he sent Molly a text. _I require your assistance at the lab. SH. _Picking her up bridal style, he managed to get her head on his shoulder when the train doors opened.

"Sherlock! What have you done to the poor girl?" Molly scolded him the second she saw him carrying the girl into the lab.

"She was attacked. You can relax Molly."

"Why'd you bring her here?" Sherlock looked at her, confused at her question.

"Where else would I take her?" He watched as she grabbed her purse and walked out the door. A few seconds later she popped her head back in.

"Aren't you following?"

"Molly why are we here?"

"I'm going to forget you asked that Sherlock." Molly opened the door of the cab, closed it, and then walked to the other side of the cab to help Sherlock. "Come on."


	3. Chapter 3

"Where are we going Molly?" Again Molly ignored Sherlock's attempt to find out where the taxi was taking them.

"Take a left please." The taxi driver was extremely weary when Molly and Sherlock had gotten in his backseat but was assured that the girl was a relative that had simply passed out. Accepting the story, the taxi driver had turned his attention back to the road.

"Molly…"

"Patience." Molly didn't snap, but her voice was very firm. Sherlock noted that this probably meant he should stop asking. A few minutes later, the two and the knocked out girl were in a medium sized apartment. The walls were a pale green in the living room with a silver accent. From the ceiling there was a chandelier. The kitchen had three, dark brown, wooden stools and a variety of pots hanging up. That only led to Sherlock's belief that Molly did indeed have a knack for cooking. "You can put her down on the couch." Molly pointed as she quickly took off her coat and scarf, then hurrying into the kitchen. Rushing back, Molly shooed Sherlock away and immediately put ice on the girl's hand. "Who is she Sherlock? Why is she knocked out?"

"Some men attacked her. I have no idea who she is but I've been following the men for a while now. I need you to call me the second she wakes up," Molly followed Sherlock as he walked swiftly towards the door.  
"Will do." She closed the door behind Sherlock and shook her head slightly. Just as she was about to head back, the door popped open again.

"Try not to scare her. It's vital we get information from her." Rolling her eyes, Molly said goodbye and closed the door. Sighing, Molly took one look at the girl on her couch and then the kitchen. It wouldn't be harmful if the girl was cleaned up a bit. Her feet led her to the kitchen and Molly pulled a cloth out from a drawer. Then, after placing it under warm water for a minute, she strung it out and walked back to the unconscious girl. Gently, Molly wiped the dirt off of the girls face. After the girls face was clean, Molly put the cloth on the table and removed the ice from the girl's hand. Sure enough, the swelling had gone down. Now to wrap it. Sensing she was missing something, Molly tapped her foot. _Clothes!_ Quietly, she moved to her room and picked out some clothes that would undoubtedly fit the girl.

* * *

**After Caitlyn said she was going to talk to John only**

* * *

"Honestly Sherlock! You tell me not to frighten her and you come in here bold as brass and scare the heck out of her!" Molly wasn't exactly angry, but more frustrated with the man that stood before her. "She had something happen and don't give me that 'Caring isn't an advantage' or 'I need answers'. You said you needed the girl to trust you, well she's not going to do that if you don't tone down." Brushing past Sherlock, Molly went into the kitchen and started washing dishes.

"I'm sorry Molly. I didn't mean to upset you." Closing her eyes, Molly turned to look at Sherlock.

"I know you didn't, you just got to….relax. She's scared."

"Why does she trust John?" Sherlock's whiny voice reached her ears. "If anything, she would trust you. It's clear that she doesn't trust men."

"Maybe she just doesn't trust obnoxious men such as yourself." Molly teased before turning back towards the dishes in her sink.

* * *

**After Caitlyn's Panic attack, when she's sleeping.**

* * *

"Do you have anything to give her?" John asked, glancing at the girl sleeping on Sherlock. Although he expected Sherlock to be annoyed, there was only patience on the man's face.

"Yeah, somewhere. Give me a second." Molly stopped leaning on her knees and walked to the bathroom. As they waited for her to return, John decided to question Sherlock.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine John."

"Here you go." Molly re-entered the living room and tossed John the medicine. Nodding, John moved near the girl and shook her a little.

"Sorry, I really hate to wake you, but you should take some medicine. Then you can go right back to sleep." The three adults watched as Caitlyn snuggled closer to Sherlock as her eyes closed. Softly, Molly spoke.

"There's an extra room right down the hall if you want to move her." A large vibrating sound interrupted Sherlock's reply. John and Molly watched as Sherlock carefully pulled his phone out of his pocket. When he answered, they shared a look and a smile.

"Yes?-Continue-Interesting-I'm a little busy right now-I'll come in tomorrow." Sherlock hung up. As no one spoke, Sherlock warily lifted Caitlyn up and walked down the hall. Molly refused to say anything when she watched him turn into her room.

"Come on John." She pulled the army man into the kitchen with her. As she started putting away clean dishes, she heard Sherlock come in. "Who was on the phone?" Given that she had the girl under her roof; Molly decided she had the right to know what was happening.

"Lestrade. He said some more girls had been attacked. I'll come around right in the morning, not to soon as 8:30. I doubt she'll be up earlier. Let's go John." Sherlock departed. Shrugging, John gave her a light hug and whispered a goodbye before leaving as well.

"Guys." Molly huffed.


End file.
